Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Mad Love

   I’m left on my own again, as Oswald and Mrs. Cobblepot carry on a long conversation in her room. I walk into Oswald’s room, admiring the sketches of various birds hanging from the wall. Under one of the bird sketches, I notice a yellowed, frayed paper sticking out. I carefully remove the sketch to reveal a crude crayon drawing of three stick figures, a small one labelled “Ozwald” in purple, another, much larger stick figure labelled, “Mom” in pink, and a scratched out stick figure, almost completely obscured in a dark black crayon, over what use to be red crayon. I can’t even tell what use to be represented by what is now a bunch of dark scribbles. I take the sketch that was covering the drawing, and as I place it back on the wall, I notice the wall moves just a little bit with my hand. I take a closer look and realize that it’s not a wall at all, but a screen that’s been covered with wallpaper. I push the screen back to reveal a closet-like space, with various black suits hanging up in a neat row. But that’s not what catches my attention. Directly in the middle of the space, just barely fitting in the cramped area, is an antiquated piano, its wood having long lost its color and shine. I open up the piano, and tentatively press the C key, and a slightly off-pitch, but still beautiful sound rings out. I pull out the stool and sit down, trying to recall a song from my youth. My hands rest on the starting chord, and the notes, as well as the words, come back to me immediately,

“If I loved you...time and again I would try to say, all I’d want you to know...If I loved you, words wouldn’t come in an easy way. ‘Round in circles I’d go.” I play the short break in between verses, “Longing to tell you, but afraid, and shy, I’d let my golden chances pass me by...Soon you’d leave me, off you would go, in the mist of day. Never, ever, to know...how I loved you…”

My hands freeze as I hear the door creak open. Oswald peeks in through the doorway, “You...you play the piano?”

I nod, smiling, “Yeah, a little.”

He grins, but I notice his eyes shift around rapidly. Is there something wrong?

“May I ask what you and your mother talked about?”

With a flick of his head, his eyes stop shifting, “Oh, nothing important.” his tone is innocent and sweet, too much so.

“Uhuh.” I nod in disbelief.

I make room for him on the piano stool, and he sits down next to me. Our bodies touch, as we both keep near the center of the piano. Oswald’s hands grace the piano, and he starts playing a haunting melody that requires no words. I instinctively lean against him, resting my head against his shoulder. I know I shouldn’t, this is exactly what I warned Oswald about. Intimacy, physical closeness. But, as he responds, leaning his head against mine, I realize that, even if we retained a Puritan level of restraint, Mrs. Cobblepot will still hold me with discontent because the physical intimacy is a reflection of, of something more. No, no it isn’t, what I am saying?

“So, what’re your plans for the morning?” he asks, just barely concealing a malous in his tone.

“Well, I’m going to go to the bank and get some money, then I’m going to go call a friend. Speaking of that, do you know of any payphones in the area?”

“No, and we don’t have a phone in the house.” he grumbles.

I sigh, “Oh well, I’m sure I’ll find one. Maybe I’ll ask the clerk while at the bank.”

“Will you be living close to here?” he asks, his voice lightening.

“I don’t know.” I confess, “Guess that depends on if I can find a place-”

“There are several motels in the area, I can show you them.” he offers.

I roll my eyes, “And yet you can’t recall the location of a single payphone.”

“I just...would like to stay in touch.” he ends the song in a slow ritardando, dramatically hitting the final chords. He closes the piano, “It’s getting quite late. Shall we to bed?” we get up and he closes the screen door. He sits down on his bed and pats the spot next to him, but I arch my eyebrow, and put my hands on my hips. He sighs, “Fine, but that couch is awfully uncomfortable.”

“I’ll manage.”

I exit his room and collect Mrs. Cobblepot’s nightgown that I’d worn last night. I walk back into Oswald’s room to change and realize he’s...already...changing…

I look away as he turns around. Peeking through my hands, I see that he’s only shirtless, and despite his small frame, he’s actually somewhat muscular, somewhat...attractive, even with his abnormally pale skin. He sees me peeking, and smiles triumphantly. I shy away, closing the door. No, no, no, I shouldn’t be thinking of him like this, I can’t think of him like this. My first priority should be scouting for potential members for Amanda’s Suicide Squad, which I have not been doing at all. I’ve been so wrapped up in this man that I hardly know and yet...my heart swells at his touch. Am I really so desperate for human interaction that I’ve let in a man with psychopathic tendencies and a Freudian complex with his mother? No, I need to get out as soon as I can, sever all ties, and continue with my mission.

Oswald opens the door, fully dressed thankfully, “I’m...so sorry about that. I...I was careless.”

“No, no, I was the careless one.” I blame, “I’ll...I’ll go change now.”

Just as I’m about to close the door, he pushes his foot in between the door, stopping it, “I have to ask, did you like what you saw?”

I freeze in place, play it cool, keep cool. I grin suggestively, “If you’re fishing for a compliment, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

He twists his lip, “...challenge accepted.”

Author's Note:

Songs on the piano:

If I Loved You - Carousel 1956 (song Natalie/Trixie sings): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iuHAh-2xGxw

Moonlight Sonata (Sonata 14) by Beethoven (song Oswald plays): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Tr0otuiQuU